Frederique Volume I Part 45

"It's a great pity that you sing only when you are alone; for I should have been delighted to hear you, monsieur."

"Mon Dieu! if it will give you any pleasure, madame----"

"You will sing? How good of you!"

"I will try to sing something. I don't know whether I can manage it."

"Oh! that is an amateur's modesty! I am sure that you sing beautifully."

She walked quickly to a seat, saying:

"Monsieur Rochebrune is going to sing. Silence, if you please!"

Everyone ceased talking, and the room became perfectly still. I began to be afraid that I had gone too fast. To be sure, I sing rather well, but it so rarely happens that I sing before strangers. However, I realized that I must do my best; it was impossible to back out.

I sat down at the piano. My fingers refused to move. What was I to sing?

I must make up my mind, for everybody was waiting. I settled upon a romanza by Ma.s.sini; as is usually the case when one is afraid, I selected the most difficult piece I knew and the one that I sang least well.

At the outset, I forgot the accompaniment and struck two or three discordant notes in the ba.s.s--something that had never happened to me before. That was calculated to give my hearers rather a sorry idea of my musical organization.

When I came to the second verse, I forgot the words. I stopped, and began again; but it was of no use, and I mumbled between my teeth:

"Tradera, deri, dera!"

The words of the third verse came to me all right, and I determined to be revenged for the mess I had made of the other two. I attacked it with confidence, and when I came to an _ad libitum_ pa.s.sage I risked a note which I had taken a hundred times without any trouble. But I had something in my throat that night. Was it fear? was it ill humor? This much is certain, that I made a vile fiasco, and that I ended my song coughing as if I had swallowed something the wrong way.

I left the piano, purple with chagrin, and still coughing. Somebody was malicious enough to applaud me; but I saw in the eyes of the guests that malignant joy which people always feel in society when they have a fair opportunity to laugh at somebody. What distressed me most of all was that I had made an a.s.s of myself before Armantine, who was much given to raillery, and who could hardly restrain her laughter; while Herr von Brunzbrack said to me with the utmost good faith:

"Vat a bity tat you haf ein cold! Id vas going so vell!"

I made no reply; I would have liked to crawl under a sofa. I slunk away to a corner of the salon, where I heard a voice in my ear:

"That false note puts you back at least three months!"

Frederique was behind me. I understood her meaning perfectly. In truth, in the eyes of a vain, coquettish woman like Madame Sordeville, to make one's self ridiculous before witnesses is a great crime! There are so few women who love us for ourselves! With the great majority we owe our success solely to all the previous successes we have had.

I took refuge in the card room. Frederique followed me there and organized a game of baccarat, with herself as banker. The stakes were high, and she won from everybody, until she had a pile of gold in front of her. Herr von Brunzbrack had lost all the money that he had with him; but that did not disturb him: he tried to obtain a word, even a glance, from the superb banker; but to no purpose, she paid no attention to him.

After a time, in my effort to distract my thoughts, I took my turn against Madame Dauberny, who played with perfect tranquillity, utterly indifferent to her good fortune, and did not deign to notice the laments or the ogling of those whom she had despoiled.

"Ah! so you are going to play," she said to me, in a bantering tone.

"Indeed, you are very wise, for, if the proverb is to be depended on, you will be very lucky to-night. But proverbs take the liberty of lying sometimes--poor Baron von Brunzbrack is a living example. If anyone ought to win, he is the man! And yet, I have ruined him as well as all the others. Come, monsieur, let us play, let us play! I shall not be sorry to vanquish you also."

It seemed to me that there was an ironical tone in Madame Dauberny's voice, which was not usual with her. I remembered what her friend had told me as to the numerous lovers who had succeeded one another in her heart; if I chose to be sarcastic, there were many things I might say to her by way of retort. But, no--I was conscious of an indefinable feeling of sympathy with that woman. I loved her--not with love; it was rather friends.h.i.+p, confidence, which drew me toward her. Why, in heaven's name, did I steal that kiss while she was asleep? But, on the other hand, why did she keep changing her coiffure, and make herself so alluring, so seductive? A woman ought not to try such experiments, even on a man who is in love with her friend.

I placed some gold in front of me, and began to play. I won; I doubled my stake, and won again; I continued on the same line, and won incessantly. But after a few moments Frederique seemed to be inattentive to her game; I noticed that she glanced frequently and with evident impatience toward her left: Monsieur Sordeville was there, talking confidentially with the Baron von Brunzbrack. Suddenly my banker interrupted the game and cried, turning to the two men:

"Mon Dieu! Monsieur Sordeville, do let that poor baron alone for a moment; he comes here to amuse himself, and you compel him to talk to you about the affairs of his government! Really, you abuse your position as host; it is not generous."

Monsieur Sordeville became dumb; his lips blanched, but he forced himself to smile, and replied, after a brief interval:

"In truth, madame, I was ill-advised to converse with one of my guests; it is robbing you of an adorer."

"Come and play, baron," said Madame Dauberny, making no reply to Monsieur Sordeville's compliment.

The baron came to the table with a blissful air, crying:

"I vould like noding petter, but I haf not ein sou."

"You may play on credit, monsieur; you are one of those men whose honor is evident to all, and of whom no one ventures to speak slightingly."

The baron bowed; he was radiant with joy. It seemed to me that there was a hidden meaning in Madame Dauberny's last words, and that they were accompanied with a glance at Monsieur Sordeville, who did not stir.

The baron seated himself by my side. I offered to lend him money; he accepted, and in a short time we broke the bank. Thereupon the fair Frederique gravely rose and left the table, saying:

"Faith! the proverb did not lie; it was written that you should both win."

"Are you going, montame?"

"Yes, baron."

"Vill you not bermit me to escord you in my carriage?"

"No, not to-night."

"Monsir Rocheprune, he vill come mit us."

"Thanks; but I do not care for an escort to-night. Nights succeed one another, but do not resemble one another."

Frederique took her departure, leaving the baron discomfited. I returned to Madame Sordeville, as I was determined to speak to her before I went away. I saw that she was alone, so I hastened to her side and told her how happy I should be if I could see her again soon and tell her of my love, without witnesses. She listened with a distraught, indifferent air; and when I thought that she was about to reply, she cried:

"Dear me! they haven't served the tea yet, and it's after twelve!"

And she left me. I stood for a moment as if rooted to the floor. I could not understand the caprice, the coquetry, the bewildering changes, in Armantine's treatment of me. I asked myself if a false note could have caused it all; and if so, what reliance was to be placed upon a lady's favor. I concluded that it would be well for me to go away. At that moment, the tall, thin woman who had previously spoken to me accosted me again:

"When your teeth ache too badly, monsieur, you can fill them yourself.

I'll show you how. Come and sit here."

I had no desire to hear any more, and turned and fled while she was seating herself in a convenient position to show me how one can fill one's own teeth.

XXV

A YOUNG MOTHER

Three months had pa.s.sed, and I had not tried to see Madame Sordeville again. However, her image had not faded from my heart; on the contrary, she was constantly in my thoughts, and I imagined her as amiable and fascinating as on the first day that I saw her. So that I was not cured of my pa.s.sion for that lady, although I had sufficient self-control not to call upon her again. To my mind, it was perfectly natural to love a person who did not love me; that is something that happens every day; but I did not understand how any man could consent to act as laughing stock to a coquette. One must needs try to retain a certain amount of dignity; to forget one's dignity is not the way to win love. When, burning with desire to see Armantine, I was on the point of forgetting my resolutions and running to throw myself at her feet, I remembered how she had left me abruptly, to attend to her tea, without a word in reply to what I had said to her.